Nora's POV
James's icy fingers trace through my hair with gentle precision.
"How is she doing?"
"Her pulse is still elevated."
Ophelia's voice carries an echo, as if we're surrounded by vast empty space. "I feel terrible about this. She's been carrying so much weight, and it's been less than a month since she gave birth. We've been taking her resilience for granted."
James combs his fingers through my hair once more. "I believed bringing her into town would offer some relief. I should have recognized it was overwhelming."
"Stop blaming yourself. I haven't been particularly understanding, and I allowed my own anxiety to cloud my judgment. God, what kind of friend does that make me?"
"You're a good friend."
"It doesn't feel that way. My closest friend delivers a baby, then loses her husband just weeks later, and I suggest she should see it as something positive? I told her you understood what you were doing with that horse."
